


please don’t ever become a stranger (whose laugh I would recognize anywhere)

by cinderlily



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: M/M, Miscommunication, Tour Fic, timelines? What timelines?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 01:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12876951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: The tour blues hit Lovett on day five, at least that is what Jon thinks. Except, he can't seem to bring him out of it, which is generally his job. He hates being bad at his job.





	please don’t ever become a stranger (whose laugh I would recognize anywhere)

**Author's Note:**

> I must thank Celli and joshlymanwalkandtalk for betaing for me AND for putting up with me whining, a lot, as this is really the first actual fic I wrote in the fandom. (Other than my 1k little drabblish thingy.)

It was day five of the tour when Lovett seemed to hit some invisible wall. It started small, just Lovett being more moody than normal. He kept saying he wasn’t sleeping as well as he usually did. Jon put it down to road fatigue. He felt it, too. But Lovett snapped at him during meetings two days in a row, not the normal snappy loud banter way but in a genuinely pissed way. 

The next day he came down for breakfast fidgety and annoyed, something that wasn’t that abnormal given Lovett, but it felt heightened. Tommy noticed it first when he offered him a cup of orange juice and Lovett snapped like he’d offered him cyanide instead. 

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” Tommy asked calmly. 

Lovett rolls his eyes. “ _If_ I did, that is the least helpful thing to say someone next to ‘It’ll be fine.’” 

“Have another one of those hot sex dreams about Paul Ryan?” Jon said, hoping to get him to laugh. Instead Lovett frowned and looked at both of them before throwing his hands up in the air and walking out. 

He looked at Tommy for some insight, but it seemed neither of them were sure what the hell just happened. Tommy gave him his overused ‘go fix him’ look. 

It wasn’t like he wouldn’t have gone on his own accord, but he rolled his eyes at Tommy and threw his napkin down. “You pay.” 

“It’s going on the expense account!” Tommy called from behind him. 

He walked outside the restaurant, giving Tommy a friendly one finger salute as he walked out the front door. He hoped Lovett had just stormed out in a fit of pique, would bluster for a minute, end up coming back in like he always did. But when Jon gotinto the hall he wasn’t outside. Nor was he in the hotel lobby. 

Jon grabbed his phone from his pocket. 

“ _Where are you at? Sorry about the PR comment._ ”

No response. He sent another. 

“ _Come on. We have to go over tonight’s show. Where are you?_ ” 

There was road fatigue and there was being a sullen teen, and this was most definitely the latter. He walked back into the restaurant to find Tommy signing the check. Tommy looked up at him. 

“I put like double the tip,” he smiled. “We’ll tell Dan it was your idea.” 

“He wasn’t outside,” Jon side-stepped the conversation. 

“You know he’s probably in his room,” Tommy got up. “We need to go over tonight. He’ll come for work. Give him some time to cool off and we can meet up in my room.” 

He nodded and called again, waiting for it to go to voicemail.

“Lovett, we’re meeting in Tommy’s room in an hour. Show up.” There was a long period of silence before he added, “Seriously, sorry about the stupid comment.” 

He wasn’t sure if that was it was the right thing to say, but he figured he should either way. He followed Tommy back to the lobby and when they stopped by the elevators he hesitated. It was only about three flights to his room, and it might help to stretch out his legs. He waved Tommy off and headed over to the white door nearby. 

As he walked towards his room, he thought about what to say or do to get Lovett out of this funk.

Their schedules were packed, because when trying to build a business, personal time was a commodity not in the budget. That being said, he could probably figure out a time to get the three of them tickets to a movie, or maybe some random museum. 

He wasn’t even entirely sure what city he was in, to be honest, but he knew for a fact that somewhere nearby there was a museum of macramé or of old steampunk gear. Lovett liked that weird crap. 

By the time he got up to Tommy’s room, Tommy was standing at the open door. He looked at Jon and frowned. “Taking the stairs doesn’t make you healthier.” 

“No,” he said and smiled smugly. “But it makes me healthier than _you_.” 

“Like that’s a huge accomplishment,” came from behind him, and he turned around to find Lovett. He wasn’t looking directly at either of them.

Jon hazarded a soft, “You okay?” 

Lovett’s eyes snap to his and he nods. They all walked into Tommy’s room and didn’t talk about the thing at breakfast. Instead they went through a list Tommy had made about the last twenty-four hours in news. Unsurprisingly there were tweets to talk about; NFL was still at the top of the list of things the Idiot in Chief was using to distract the media. 

Lovett gave as good as he got, punching back and forth with insights, but something seemed like a cloud over the day. When they went to lunch, without the need for jokes, he kept to himself. Even a few times Jon extended a low hanging fruit Lovett ignored the bait. 

Thankfully it didn’t extend to the taping that night. Lovett was his usual snarky happy self and maybe Jon enjoyed it a little too much. 

 

* 

The next morning was a travel day, so he looked up the next city and paid for the stupidly slow Gogo on the plane to spend the time looking up places to go to when they landed. There were a few places that were promising, so he copied them to his notes folder, including addresses and phone numbers. 

Then they landed, got to the hotel, and, apparently, it was stupid for him to find the local Museum of Modern Art doing a special exhibition of ‘unique’ artists, because Lovett claimed exhaustion and went up to his room. He never did that. Even on long haul flights to New York. The guy always wanted to pester one of them. It was just his about his favorite thing to do.

Tommy, who seemed legitimately tired, asked if he wanted to head out for a late lunch, but Jon shook him off and told him to go to his room and take a nap. Jon was on a mission, now, and he liked to be focused when he had a goal. 

He and Tommy took the elevator up to the floor all three of them shared, though Lovett had gotten on the first one before they had a chance to say boo. Tommy leaned against the wall and looked at Jon with the kind of half smirk he used when he was self satisfied.

“What?” Jon asked, just after the fourth floor. 

Tommy shrugged. “Nothing, just you know. Usually you are the one who holds it all together. It’s weird to see you flustered.” 

Jon glared at Tommy. “Helpful, Vietor.” 

“He’s just in a bad mood, Favs,” Tommy said. 

“Yeah, with _me_ ,” Jon snapped. “He seems fine with you.” 

It was true, insultingly so. If anything it was lemon juice on the paper cut of this annoyance, the fact that that morning he’d seen Lovett smile AT Tommy only moments before he saw Jon and turned back into this not-Lovett that was not up for lunch when they got in. It was a little like he was mad at Jon. 

Tommy shrugged. “You are kind of annoying at your best.” 

“Shut up,” he said. 

“Really helping with the ‘not annoying’ part, Favs.” 

The door dinged and they had reached the 10th floor. He got off the elevator and looked down at his key. He was in 1023. He looked up to see that was off to the left, whereas Tommy was going to the right. He wondered which way Lovett was, but didn’t remember if he’d heard the room number when they were checking in. 

“We should meet up for dinner,” he called at Tommy. “Like all of us, for a … strategy session.” 

Tommy turned around and rolled his eyes. “Aye, aye Captain. I guess I’ll be doing the inviting?” 

“Yes.” 

Tommy put his hand up in a lazy wave before turning to walk away. Jon walked to his room, opened it up and threw his bags down on the ground. He shrugged off his jacket and debated for all of a half a second about putting it on a hanger before he put it on the back of the nearest chair. 

He laid down on the bed and checked the side table to see if he was going to order some food. A cursory glance showed that there was nothing that seemed even slightly appealing to him. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. He was going to have to grab something. Which meant leaving the hotel. 

He picked his phone out of his pocket and, upon opening it, saw the list of places he’d planned on kidnapping Lovett to. Well that added insult to injury. He slipped his finger back on the button and instead opened the Maps app. There were a few places in walking distance for food. They would have to do. 

He walked back out and got on the elevator, slipping in headphones and starting up the last episode of Pod Save the World. He liked to keep up with the entirety of the group. It was good content, he liked it, but also it made him feel more in control. He liked that control. Crooked Media was a joint effort, but he’d kind of put all his eggs in one basket in this situation and it helped to keep his mind at ease. 

Getting off the elevator, he headed out to the small lobby where, incidentally, Lovett was in the corner. Lovett, who was too tired to do anything, was seated in the corner with a drink beside him and the menu open in front of him. 

Maybe it was just the fact that Jon had let himself get so worked up and worried but seeing him sitting there in what appeared to be a nice quiet moment made him feel a surge of anger. He’d sat on the airplane trying to just figure out what could make him happy and was pretty swiftly rebuffed afterwards, giving him more anxiety. There was no context for this, and it didn’t seem like Lovett was willing to provide any. Yet there he sat, just staring out the window like nothing was wrong.

To say Jon strode across the room was kind of polite, it was probably more of a storm. But for his pride’s sake he decided to go with strode. He sat down in the empty chair across from Lovett, like he wasn’t totally pissed off. 

“Hey, Lovett,” he said, smile a little tight. “How’s that nap going?” 

Lovett looked up from the menu and looked… guilty? Was that it? He had no idea. Lovett’s voice was mostly passive. “Favs.” 

“What the hell is going on here?” Jon asked, leaning slightly over the table so that he didn’t have to say it too loudly. Not that anyone in the small bar area could possibly care but … still. It felt like a quiet type of fight. 

“Well, good question,” Lovett said, sipping at the pink slush of a drink in front of him. “See, we both work for a company we started… It’s called Crooked Media. We do podcasts, you follow?” 

Jon made a face, but a waiter walked past and leaned in to ask what he wanted. He hadn’t looked but he ordered whatever Hefeweizen they had on tap and any burger they had. He might have come off as a little rude, but he was too focused on Lovett to realize it until the waiter was gone. 

“We’re here to…” Lovett started. 

Jon held up a hand. “Good bit, might want to workshop it, but I was hoping for more of why you won’t look at me. Or talk to me.” 

“I’m talking right now.” 

“Just because I have you pinned,” Jon pointed out and Lovett’s eyes went a little wider. “What?” 

Lovett seemed frozen but then shook his head. “Nothing, saw a score above your head.” 

Jon turned around to see a giant TV, which was indeed showing scores, but he turned back around and frowned. “What team? What _sport_?” 

“Whatever,” Lovett waved him off. “I didn’t… I haven’t been avoiding you.” 

It was Jon’s turn to wave him off. “The only time you’ve made eye contact before now was at the show. I thought you were fried from being on the road, so I looked up some places to go today if you had wanted but you bolted upstairs so fast it left vapor trails…” 

The beer was placed in front of him and he looked up to give the waiter a nod of gratitude but the man had left. He was going to have to tip well, and hope his burger was … okay. 

“Was the joke yesterday THAT horrible? You once accused me of being a dendro-necrophiliac.” 

Lovett laughed at his glass. “To be fair, I was drunk, you’d just told me you were bi and I had just figured out that dendro-necrophiliac meant someone who fucks dead trees.” 

“It’s not even a thing, Lovett!” Jon said, though he knew the internet well enough to not search for the validity of that statement. “Paul Ryan is at least comparable to a dead tree.” 

There was a pause, Lovett looking up at him and a sly half smile before they both said, “Named the episode.” 

The laugh it brought out of Lovett, and the fact that he was a part of it was just about the best feeling in the world. The two of them laughing about something so freaking stupid felt like breathing. It didn’t, however, answer any of his questions as to what the hell was going on. 

He was at an impasse, though, as Lovett looked relaxed and was smiling at him. _Smiling at him_. If he pressed the issue he was bound to get the sad face again, or worse the actual anger face, and he’d spent twenty four hours with that. He couldn’t manage it anymore. 

“I found this museum in walking distance that has a show of found material,” he blurted out. “It has like toilet seats painted weird and cow skulls…” 

Lovett looked at him for a long minute. “And?” 

“I figured you might want to go,” he said. “We’ve got hours till like… anything.” 

“Our shows are tomorrow, Favs.” 

“Yeah, but we are doing a rundown tonight with Tommy. He’s going to text you about it…” 

The waiter, whose timing was freaking impeccable, put his burger down. It didn’t look like it had been spat on or anything so he gave the waiter his best smile and thanked him. The waiter looked unamused.

“There is going to be a hair in that,” Lovett said low, as soon as the waiter was out of distance. “Trust me.” 

Jon stuck his tongue out and examined the sandwich with a detective’s eye. It seemed fine. “I think it’s fine.” 

Lovett gave a nod with wide eyes and lips pursed, as if to say ‘your funeral’, but Jon was hungry...enough to eat hair, apparently. He took a huge bite and chewed exaggeratedly. 

“Mmm, fluffy.” 

Lovett laughed again; Jon was pretty sure he was going to count them for at least a few days. “You were less weird in the White House.” 

“The world was less weird when I was in the White House,” Jon shrugged, still mid-bite. “So, museum?” 

“If you close your mouth, yes. Jesus, Favreau, were you raised in an actual barn or perhaps a zoo? Masticate, you man-child.” 

Jon closed his mouth, chewed and swallowed before giving a stupidly large smile. Whatever problems had to be behind them if he was getting insulted by a grossed out Lovett. 

* 

It was not behind them. 

He could say that with great specificity because the next morning Lovett was back to looking like he was being forced to chew glass as they ate breakfast, and he wouldn’t actually look at Jon. He would talk when spoken to, but his usual level of snarkiness was way out the window. 

They’d had a good afternoon at the Museum. It turned out that Modern Art was WAY Modern at this museum. There was one piece where he and Lovett stood in the center of the room and had voices whispering secrets at them for twenty solid minutes and then, as they left, they had to whisper their secret into a microphone. 

He had told the world that he was scared of being alone, and he hadn’t heard Lovett’s. The thing was, in the room you couldn’t hear any one secret due to sheer volume. It didn’t make him feel any less anxious about the secret he’d left.

There was also an exhibit where you just walked through a room with vertical Christmas lights. There was music playing, not Christmas music, but what Lovett SWORE was monks doing renditions of pop songs. It was just bizarre enough to be true. 

They’d met a sleep rumpled Tommy for dinner and it had all felt… normal.

Then the next morning was like freaking Groundhog Day, Lovett walking down to breakfast looking downtrodden and extremely snappy. 

He waited until they’d split to go up to their rooms before texting Tommy as much.

“ _He seemed fine to me, just tired. Maybe he went out after we went to bed._ ”

That… didn’t sound likely. He’d walked Lovett to his door mid-story, and his room was basically across the hall from Jon’s so it wasn’t even awkward. Except then he realized it might have seemed awkward. But whatever. He had gone to his room and never heard Lovett leave.

“ _He didn’t go out._ ” 

“ _What? You finally got him chipped?_ ” 

Sometimes he hated Tommy Vietor. 

He thought about texting Lovett to see if he wanted to go exploring but he really didn’t know what kind of response he would get. So instead he clicked the TV on and switched to CNN. It wasn’t exactly his first choice but it was either that or FOX and he wasn’t going to pile on the masochism for the day. 

His phone pinged and he jumped at it but it was just his dog sitter sending a video of Leo and Pundit playing in a huge muddy puddle at the local dog park. Luckily, he knew the sitter well enough to know they’d be bathed before he got home. When the phone pinged again, it was on the same thread but it was Lovett. 

“ _Tell Pundit not to let his brother teach him bad habits._ ” 

He felt himself smile, slightly, at the idea of Lovett watching the video just across the hall. Favs responded, “ _Tell Leo that Pundit is a brat._ ” 

“ _Them’s fighting words, Favs._ ” 

“ _Bring it on, Lovett_ ”

There was a long pause and then a little blip on his screen from the sitter. “ _I’ll send them dog pats._ ” 

He dared to open up a message to just Lovett and tried his best to be calm and rational. “ _Want to find something dumb to do?_ ”

“ _That museum was educational and enlightening… pun intended._ ” 

Jon couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “ _Your humor knows no limits._ ” 

He scrolled through the list from the day before. There wasn’t much that didn’t require a Lyft, not that he was opposed but… 

“ _There’s a movie theater showing old John Hughes movies. Ferris Bueller starts in about a half hour._ ” 

Jon’s eyes went wide at Lovett’s text. He slipped on his shoes and grabbed a sweater out of his bag. After a moment's hesitation he took off his Pod shirt and put on an old Obama shirt, less risk of recognition. He walked across the hall and knocked on the door. Lovett was at the door seemingly waiting. 

“What are you, Superman?” Lovett said, one of his shoes in his hands. “Is there a phone booth in your room?” 

He didn’t want to admit that he was moping and as such hadn’t really removed much besides his shoes so he shrugged. “With great power…” 

“That’s Spiderman, you heathen,” Lovett said, sitting down on the chair to slip his shoes on. “Do we invite Tommy?” 

Jon paused mid bounce. Uh. Yeah, they should. He wasn’t one for excluding Tommy, but he hesitated. “Um. I think he was going to take a nap.” 

Could be true. Might be true. 

“When did Tommy turn into an old man?” 

“Engagement, man,” he said. 

Lovett shrugged, grabbing for his sweater and pointing at the door. “You first, Mr. Kent.” 

He turned around and headed for the door. “Do you want to cheap it out and stop by the convenience store for candy?”

“Okay, be honest Favs, how much is in your bank account?” 

* 

They did end up grabbing candy from the local place, Lovett lamenting the fact that when he went with a girl they at least had their purses to shove it into. He also commented on the fact that Jon’s jeans were of no help as they were painted on. Jon didn’t know how to take that. They weren’t even his skinny jeans. 

Instead he did what he’d done in college and put the candy in his hoodie’s kangaroo pocket and held that over his arms. It felt stupid, he could spring for the extra few bucks for candy, but old habits died hard. 

The movie theater was relatively empty, which hurt Jon’s soul. It was an awesome movie, arguably one of Hughes’s best, and yet there were maybe 20 people in a theater to see it. 

“It’s going on all weekend, Favs,” Lovett leaned over while the theater was still mostly empty. “Don’t take it as an affront to Hughes’s memory. It’s playing again tomorrow night.” 

Jon laughed. “My face made it obvious?” 

“Well, you glared that chair into submission but you know, it was more just a guess.” 

“This is his best film!” Jon said, arms out. 

Lovett’s eyes went wide. “Excuse me? _Planes, Trains and Automobiles_. It’s literally a classic, you have to watch it on Thanksgiving or it ISN’T Thanksgiving.” 

“The shower scene has been redone at least a dozen times,” Jon pointed out. “I think that brings it to classic status.” 

“Were we not working tonight we would be back here to watch _Planes Trains_ , to remind you how wrong you are, Favreau,” Lovett said. “But as such, you are coming over to be reminded sometime soon. I’ll even bust out the sound system I still haven’t figured out.” 

Jon didn’t beam at him, as that would be truly ridiculous. But instead he just smiled and nodded. The lights dimmed down a little and he tilted his head towards the screen. “Prepare to be reminded of real perfection right now.” 

“Shut up,” Lovett said, voice lower. “The second best Hughes film is starting.” 

For good measure he chucked a Twizzler at Lovett’s head. Lovett caught it and ate it happily. 

* 

It turned out that Tommy hadn’t actually been sleeping. When he checked his phone after the film he had eight texts from Tommy asking where the hell the two of them were. Apparently he’d gone to their rooms to check in and they weren’t there. 

Lovett seemed to be having the same reaction, looking at his phone and looking a little guilty. 

“So… he wasn’t napping,” Lovett said. 

“No.” 

Lovett frowned. “Now we look like dicks.” 

“Well, it isn’t a birthday party with 150 people…” Jon tried. 

This earned him a glare and a punch on the arm. “You’re still dicks for that, too.” 

“We’ll invite him to lunch,” Jon said. “There was that burger place on the way here, right?” 

Lovett shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. 

Jon picked up the phone and hit Tommy’s face on his favorite’s list. It rang exactly twice. 

“Where are you two?” 

“We went out,” Jon said, trying for blasé. “We’re getting food though, it’s half a block from the hotel. Meet us there?” 

Over the phone Tommy made a soft cluck. “Oh, Favs.” 

“Meet you in ten?” he tried, ignoring Tommy’s patronizing tone.

“See you there,” Tommy said. “Then I’ll wrangle your dumb asses back here. We have a show tonight. Remember?” 

Jon didn’t point out he’d usually had to wrangle them in the past. He probably had earned a little bit of ribbing. “A show, you say? I had no idea.” 

He heard the line go dead. That was about right. 

“Is he pissed?” Lovett said.

Jon shrugged. “Can you tell with him?” 

“We should have called him,” Lovett said. 

“Probably,” Jon said and felt the guilt that he’d told himself he wouldn’t. “Let’s go. We’re meeting him for food.” 

The walk was short but icy quiet. It was like Lovett had an on-off switch and he was back to off mode. The movie was supposed to fix it. It was frustrating.

Tommy was waiting outside the door of the restaurant on the phone, looking a little annoyed. He turned his head as they walked up and hung up. Jon tilted his head. 

“Who were you talking to?” 

“Hanna,” he said but then he turned towards the restaurant and walked in without any further explanation. Usually they at least heard about what she was doing. Maybe he was waiting for dinner to tell them? Whatever. It was probably on Tommy to keep the conversation up, as he was certain that Lovett was going to be pretty freaking quiet. 

He opened the door, “After you, Lovett.” 

Lovett muttered something he couldn’t understand but walked in. Jon rolled his eyes. This day was going so well. 

* 

It was more of this for the better part of a week. They had a few times where they separated, different shows or flying back for interviews, but in general it was the same. Travel and shows. He tried his best to keep up on the situation with Lovett, but it seemed like two steps forward three steps back most days. 

He found a retro shop, full of old school games, weird candy and random soda that had been ‘discontinued’. Something that was generally up Lovett’s alley but when they walked in he looked let down by the whole thing. Even the small section of nerdy things that even gave Jon weird glee. 

After a half an hour in the store, in which Jon bought a six pack of Bubble Up, a couple things of chocolate only Necco wafers, and a weeping angel pin for his mom. Lovett relaxed a minuscule amount and bought his favorite creme soda that he swore he could never find. 

When they walked out of the store he told Lovett he left his phone, ran back in and bought a case of it to be delivered to Lovett’s house because why the hell not?

Another trip ended up with a canceled meeting and the three of them watching three different Supermans in a movie theater the size of his living room with couches and people everywhere. It was fun, even if he still didn’t get why the Routh version of Superman was so maligned. It wasn’t perfect but it was interesting. It had direction. 

Shows went how they always did and sometimes he even got Lovett to hang out afterward, watching Fox and hurling insults at hotel TV screens, but most mornings were like starting over again. He always seemed to find a sad looking Lovett coming down the stairs. It was exhausting and a little frustrating. Tommy kept telling him to let it go, but he was pretty good at ignoring his friends when he needed to. 

Until, at last, he wasn’t good at it.

*

It all came to a head two days later when, against his better judgment, he apparently went too far. 

They had landed early in the day but taken the chunk of the midday to write and get caught up on work. At home, they would do this in one room but Lovett said he needed to concentrate on his own work. They didn’t have a show that night so when it reached 4:30 Jon was hitting his limit of work time. He was just about to put on his shoes when there was a knock on the door.

Jon opened the door, saw it was Lovett, and began to grin. “You reading my mind? I was just going to hit you up, there’s a bar down the street that apparently makes the best Manhattan. Funny as we aren’t _in_ Manhattan…” 

“I need a break.” 

Jon felt his chest tighten for a second. A break? “From the podcast?” 

“What?” Lovett shook his head. “No. I mean. We can’t do this anymore.” 

“Do… what?” 

Lovett looked him up and down and a sort of broken look crossed his face. “Yeah, fuck. Of course you don’t have any fucking clue what’s going on. Of course.” His voice was rising, close to slipping into full rant mode. He grabbed Lovett by the arm, but Lovett pulled back and Jon let go. 

“Look, Fav… Jon. I need you to just give me some damn air. You need to be less… you.”

“What the hell, Lovett?” 

He took a deep breath and spoke more measured than he usually did even without rant mode engaged. “We can’t go to dinner or museums or movies. We can’t walk around cities and we really can’t watch any shit in your freaking room. We have to stop doing this because it’s messing with my head.” 

Jon stood there for a second, mouth open. 

“Okay, now that that’s that. I… need to not be here,” Lovett said, tipped his head forward and turned around. 

It took just long enough for Jon to catch himself up to the rest of the conversation that when he went into the hallway Lovett had already opened the door and walked into his room. “Lovett?!” 

He didn’t respond as the door closed behind him. 

* 

He called Dan. Dan was his more level friend, a little bit of a jerk at times but in that way that meant he was telling you the truth and you just didn’t want to hear it. He had been putting off talking about this with Dan for that very reason, honestly. Dan and he talked through the Slack, through emails, and through phone calls but he’d kept himself on business only level or the occasional bitching about travel. 

He fell backward on his bed and waited through the two rings. 

“Ah, good,” Dan said. “I get to actually hear it from you.” 

Jon exhaled. “Hi, Dan. How are you? How’s the wife?” 

“I’ve been waiting for you to call me,” Dan said. “I’ve had to hear Tommy bitch enough about this.” 

He pinched his forehead with his pointer and thumb.“Tommy? What’s his problem?” 

“Other than feeling like the extra bolt at the end of building an IKEA piece, I don’t think anything is _wrong_ per se.” 

Taking a deep breath, Jon counted his exhale. He could handle Tommy another time. “I fucked everything up with Lovett, and I don’t know what, or how, or why for that matter. He just came to my room to ask for space, which is going to be pretty fucking hard seeing as we still have to _work together_.” 

“He asked for space?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So he broke up with you?” 

Had he been drinking, he would have done a spit take. As it stood he felt like he choked on thin air. He sat up. “What the fuck, Dan? We weren’t _dating_.” 

“Yeah? Because from what I hear? You were going to dinner, movies, making lists of places to take him while on the plane…” 

Tommy saw that? Shit. He had to keep his phone usage better hidden. He tried to sound normal, but his voice was tighter even to his own ears. “He seemed bummed out for no reason. So I was trying to cheer him up. You know how Lovett gets when he’s sad…” 

“Favs, I’m fully aware of what a sad Lovett is like,” Dan said. “But I’m also aware of the fact that you wouldn’t do this for me or Tommy.” 

“That’s not…” 

Dan interrupted him like he hadn’t even spoken. “You’d get us some beer, we’d hang out and you’d let us bitch if we needed. You wouldn’t find museums and old fashioned candy places. I love you, you know that, but I went through a divorce and you were totally there for me. But not on this level.

“Last time I saw you like this was when you and your last girlfriend broke up.” 

Feeling decidedly like he’d been punched in the solar plexus, Jon lay back down. He wasn’t sure what that was supposed to tell him, other than the fact that he might be a shit friend if he helped his friend through a divorce less avidly than through a seemingly unexplained sad spell. It was just… Sad Lovett. 

He didn’t like it. He hated it. He liked Lovett laughing, making jokes and annoying him sometimes. Hell, he _missed_ the annoying parts. Even with the times they’d been hanging out, Lovett had been tentative since that first morning just a week before. Like he was walking on eggshells. 

Lovett was professional and a great actor, so the shows were his time to shine. He played it up and played the crowd the way that Pod listeners were used to, but he’d been more quiet and tense even when he was laughing over drinks after. Or during their walks. Or during their dinners. 

“ _Shit_.” 

“Annnnd there is the penny dropping.” 

“I’m dating Lovett,” Jon said, and the words felt weird in his mouth. Not bad. Just weird. The guys he’d been with had never quite been ‘take you to the movies on a date’ relationships they’d been ‘make out in the dorm until roommates intruded’ types, he’d just always ended _dating_ girls because it was easier to fall into those relationships. Especially in politics. 

Dan forced a cough. “Sounds like you _were_ dating him, Favs.” 

Jon’s eyes opened wide enough that he could feel his skin pull at his temples. “Shit, shit, shit. I’ve got to go.” 

He hung up before Dan got a chance to say anything, but he was fairly certain that was something for the best. 

Then came the real rub, the fact that he had to do something. The room, which had been perfectly fine when he checked in, suddenly felt like a cage. He paced back and forth, occasionally rubbing at his face. He wasn’t sure what the hell he was supposed to do but the whole thing was that he had to do _something_. Not that Lovett would make it easy, because that just wasn’t who Lovett was. But then again, Jon loved? …. Yes, Loved that about Lovett and Jon was persistent when he wanted to be. 

He wildly thought about going to get flowers but he could picture Lovett’s reaction, and it was just another sign of how oblivious he’d gotten. How long it had been since he’d dated anyone, let alone a guy? He wasn’t a monk or anything but dating? Who had time for that? He was good with the wooing, but you can’t woo someone who has seen you throw up from both alcohol and actual sickness. Who’d called you the day after you were dumped and took you to go bowling because it was seriously the one thing that was simultaneously loud, had beer, and didn’t involve people possibly hitting on him. 

_Fuck_. He was pretty well screwed. 

The nervous churning feeling in his stomach that was growing was telling him things he already kind of knew. He wasn’t just feeling anxious about the fact that he had inadvertently been dating Lovett, or even that he had hurt Lovett (though he did feel like shit for that) but mostly he was feeling anxious that he wasn’t dating him anymore. That he might have just fucked up a friendship and the possibility of a relationship he didn’t know he wanted but really did. 

He got up and walked to look at himself in the mirror. He could do this. He was a damn speech writer. He was eloquent, damn it. His words had helped pass laws, helped people get food, rights, he had helped to get Republicans to second guess their party lines. He was damn good at his job. 

There was maybe a hundred feet from his doorway to Lovett’s. It felt like a mile, a very long, very slow moving walk that was on top of, weirdly enough, green fabric. He tried not to think of those implications. Not worth the stress. 

He got to the doorway and knocked. There was no answer. He waited a full three seconds and knocked again. He waited another three seconds and knocked again. 

“Lovett, I know you’re in there,” Jon said. “Open the door.” 

He leaned his head to the wood of the door, just in time to hear the TV inside switch off. He waited for the door to open, but it didn’t. So this was how it was going to be played. 

“You know this room is under Crooked Media? I can get a key,” he said. It was an empty threat, mostly. He wasn’t going to be the kind of person to force himself into a room if he wasn’t wanted but he was pretty freaking desperate. 

He lifted his hand to knock again, for the last time, when the door opened and an extremely annoyed looking Lovett was facing him down. His lips were in a straight line. 

“Are you kidding me with this? Do you know the meaning of the word space, Favreau?” Lovett snapped. “You have a phone, they work as dictionaries now.” 

Jon inhaled and suddenly realized that despite his _years_ of speaking engagements and writing, he was out of words. Or maybe he had too many and they were all jammed up? He wasn’t sure. He was sure that he was getting a glare of epic proportions from Lovett and he had maybe seven seconds before there was a door in his face. 

He blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I didn’t know we were dating.” 

Lovett’s eyes went wide and then came back into a glare. “Well, I guess you don’t know how dating works as it only counts if both parties are fully aware. I learned that in high school with JC Chasez.” 

“ _Really_?” 

“Shut up.” 

“No, I mean… I get it. But. Really?” 

“Space, Jon, I need space.” 

The door started to move, he saw it in the periphery. He smacked his hand up against it. “No, wait… what if I don’t want space?” 

“That. Isn’t. How. Life. Works,” Lovett said. “Now, I’m closing my door. You can still podcast with broken fingers.” 

Jon hadn’t set up a realistic term of goals. If he was a better person he probably would have given both himself and Lovett a day off. Some time and, yes, space, but he wasn’t that great of a person apparently, because he leaned down and pressed his lips against Lovett’s. 

It wasn’t his best kiss. Really, it wasn’t that much of a kiss. It was just lips mashed together. He could feel Lovett starting to open his mouth to say something but then he closed it and pressed his lips back against Jon’s. Jon opened his eyes to find Lovett’s were still open and his brows were furrowed. He pulled back. 

“What the hell was that, Favreau?” 

He could make a snarky comment, but he refrains. “I don’t want space, I want to date. Like, both of us know we are dating _date_. Not the other kind - which I still enjoyed, by the way.” 

For one of maybe a handful times in their friendship he saw a wordless Lovett. He stared at Jon like he was legitimately crazy and gaped. Jon tried to say something but Lovett put up a hand and shook his head. He just stood there. Jon moved his hand from the door, a little afraid after the ‘broken hand’ comment.

The moment hung there for a long time. He wasn’t exactly made to be patient, to be honest, and neither was Lovett. The urge to fidget or to say _something_ was growing slowly but steadily and he was afraid he’d fuck everything up by jumping in and doing so. 

Finally though, freaking finally, Lovett’s hand twitched on his door and instead of closing it, he pushed it open. He backed himself against it and motioned for Jon to come in. Jon didn’t fist pump, but in his head Judd Nelson did it for him. 

The door closed and he could feel Lovett behind him. He turned around and there was a distinct look on Lovett’s face, one he was all too familiar with. It was rant time. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Jon? Is this a joke? Cause if it is, you have to walk out of this room right the fuck now or I swear it’s going to be a two person show and I’ll just go back to writing professionally.” 

Jon didn’t like the way that made his chest jerk. “I’m not a dick, Lovett.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Lovett tilted his head. “Cause you’ve been not dating me for two weeks and you’ve been kind of a dick.” 

“I was trying to cheer you up!” Jon said, his hand out towards Lovett. “You were mad at me and sad at … I don’t even know. And so I tried to cheer you up.” 

Lovett closed his eyes and then looked at him. “Maybe you should have thought about what could have been bothering me. Or ask. Then we could have gotten this whole thing over with so much quicker.” 

Jon frowned. Over with? No. “What was wrong?” 

“You ever been stuck in tight quarters with your, god I can’t believe I’m even calling it this, I am a 35-year old man, _crush_? Twenty-four/seven. For days and days on end.” 

He skipped over the word ‘crush’, it did feel weird to call it that. “We’ve been in each other’s pockets for years, Lovett.” 

“Not literally,” Lovett said and then put a hand up. “I meant the not literal form of literally, so don’t even begin to grammar police me right now.” 

“I wasn’t going to,” he lied. 

“We eat all our meals together. We spend all of our time together. You walk me to my damn door,” Lovett motioned to the offending door. “I was reaching critical load and then I had… I had a dream and it wasn’t fair. Because when I have those kind of dreams I usually have at least a good hour of time to get my shit together but no. I had to come down stairs and find you and Tommy. And you smiling and making jokes. And I was just done. I just needed to breathe. But you couldn’t even give me THAT, Favreau.” 

Jon fidgeted a little. “A dream?” 

“Oh don’t even, like you don’t have _dreams_ ,” Lovett said. “It wasn’t even a properly good one. Just a bland as fuck dream, one I usually can sweep under the rug. But no. There you were. With your freaking smile. And I had it. I WISH it could have been about Paul Ryan. At least then I could have used brain bleach and been done with it.” 

Jon laughed involuntarily and felt himself going a little warm.

“Now you’re blushing? Stop it!” 

“It isn’t exactly on purpose,” Jon said. He inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Look, Lovett, I was clueless. Yeah, I was a total ass. I get that. But I’m not… I don’t want to just walk away from this. I want to do what we’ve been doing… I want to do whatever we did in your dream.” 

“You sure about that?” Lovett said firmly. “We aren’t fucking up this whole thing over a fling, jackass.” 

Jon glared at Lovett. “You think I’m a fling kind of guy?” 

“Okay.” 

He smiled so hard it _hurt_ , moving slowly to crowd Lovett’s space a little. “Okay? Well… how about you start with the dream?” 

Lovett hesitated and then shrugged. “We don’t have an abacus, besides I think this place has a no pet policy… are ducks _pets_?” 

“Wait, what?” 

Lovett laughed, a genuine deep laugh the likes of which he hadn’t heard in awhile and pushed up to kiss him, his hand snaking behind Jon’s neck. 

*

He didn’t have to worry about a sad Lovett walking down to breakfast the next morning, as he was right beside him as they made their way down the elevator and out into the lobby. Tommy had asked in Slack if they were in the mood for some breakfast. Lovett had been in the shower, so Jon answered for the both of them. 

When the doors opened and they both walked up to him he was looking suspiciously at the two of them. Lovett was at least attempting to keep a calm face, but Jon was apparently grinning like an idiot because Tommy took one good look and rolled his eyes. 

“SERIOUSLY?” 

Lovett looked around, faux innocent. “What?”

“We’re going home tomorrow and you just NOW get your shit together?” 

“Sorry?” Jon offered, automatically. 

Tommy gave a put upon sigh. “Lovett, note, when we have live shows keep the hickeys below the shirt line.” 

Lovett looked over at Jon’s neck and ducked his head into Jon’s armpit to hide a smile. Jon looked down to find that yes, indeed, he was a man in his late thirties who had a giant nasty looking hickey like he was 15. He felt his skin go warm, but couldn’t help but laugh, because hell, he could see the humor of that. 

“I’ll get him a scarf?” Lovett offered. 

Tommy laughed at that. “Oh yeah, subtle. So subtle. Or we could just get him a jacket that goes up a little. Or a turtleneck.” 

“Hey, guys, right here,” Jon chimed in. “And I don’t want to look like a bad Sears ad from the 70’s so maybe I’ll pick up some cover up while we’re out. Getting breakfast. Like we’re supposed to be doing.” 

Lovett looked up at him and smiled. “Aww, man. You take away all Tommy’s and my fun. I was going for a Nehru jacket next. I think it would make you hip and cool in that ‘not an old guy trying too hard’ type of way.” 

“Now I’m old?” he looked down at Lovett who leaned up and gave him a kiss. 

“I was saying you wouldn’t look like you were old and trying too hard.” 

From in front of them they heard a cough and Tommy raised his hand slightly. “Are you going to be like this forever? Cause I’m really cool with just doing Pod Save the World. From Japan.” 

Lovett looked at Jon and smiled widely. “I think it’s going to be a while. You?”

Jon felt goofy and couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Yeah, a while.” 

Tommy made a noise that was a mixture of a cough and a gag. Jon could retaliate with memories, he was there through all of Hanna. But then again, he could retaliate even better by slipping his hand into Lovett’s.

He mooned at Lovett, exaggerated but only just slightly. “Who wants breakfast?”


End file.
